


Talk and Touch

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Cock & Ball Torture, Collars, Dom Natasha, F/M, Face Slapping, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Rape Roleplay, Rough Sex, Safewords, Shoe Kink, Sub Bucky Barnes, Verbal Humiliation, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky wants this, but not from Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk and Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a truly excellent [ prompt on tumblr](http://assetsational.tumblr.com/post/115461298769/what-time-is-it-in-the-merry-old-land-of-aus-right). 
> 
> Hover over text for (incredibly bad google) translations (also helpfully improved by anon in the comments).

It’s one of those evenings. Steve can sense it before Bucky even says anything. He’s just wandered into the kitchen, sat down at the granite counter-top, and he’s got his chin propped up on his metal fist and he’s looking at Steve. He’s got this look in his eye like he wants something; a little teasing, a little cautious. It’s a look that’s been lingering for a few days.

‘Natasha texted,’ he tells Steve. 'She’s back in D.C.’

Steve glances over his shoulder from where he’s loading the dishwasher. 'Yeah? How was Belarus?’

Bucky bites his lip and grins. 'I don’t think she could say in a text.’

'Good point,’ Steve replies and laughs. He hopes it sounds casual, but he knows what Bucky’s going to ask in a moment, and he kinda wants to get it out there. 'She coming over?’

'She asked if we have any beer in the fridge.’

'We do.’ Steve lets out a breath as he finishes packing away the dishes, and tuns the machine on. He wipes his hands on the tea towel beside the sink. He wanders over, and leans over the counter to kiss Bucky. His lips are warm and parted slightly, welcoming.

Bucky smiles into the kiss. 'I’ll text her back,’ he says, then pauses. 'Do you wanna, ah, go out? Or we don’t have to… we can wait until you’ve gone to bed.’

Swallowing, Steve shakes his head, and lifts up his hand to play with a loose strand of Bucky’s hair, curling it around his finger. 'It’s fine,’ he replies. 'I’ll stay here. I don’t–’ He lets out a short breath, and presses another peck to Bucky’s lips, who sighs into the kiss and tilts forward on the counter stool so that it wobbles on the tile. 'I want to be here.’

'You sure?’

Steve breathes a laugh out through his nose. 'No.’

'You might hear things you don’t… Steve, you know why we,’ Bucky shakes his head. 'You don’t _like_ it.’

'No, that’s not exactly,’ Steve starts, but quickly rephrases. 'I just worry. And I know it’s not something I can do for you, but that’s, that’s okay. I don’t have to be everything for you.’

'Go get a beer with Sam.’ Bucky plucks his hair out of Steve’s fingers, and fits their hands together. 'Watch the game.’ The look he’s giving Steve is reminiscent of the ones he used to give him when telling him to back away from a fight. It’s a _you can’t handle this, Rogers._

Well, it never worked before.

'No,’ he says firmly. 'I want to stay.’

Bucky sighs. He climbs off the chair and hoists himself up onto the counter just long enough to press his lips to Steve’s hairline. 'You’re an idiot,’ he tells him. 'I’ll text Nat.’

He wanders out of the room, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he goes, and Steve drops his head down between his shoulders, dragging in a deep breath.

 

* * *

 

Here’s the thing. Abstractly, he knows what they do. He knows what Bucky had wordlessly asked _him_ to do, when they had picked this up. Maybe they fell into bed together too soon, Steve sometimes thinks. It had scared the crap out of him back then, when he had been slowly kissing his way down Bucky’s body, and instead of an appreciative moan or something like, he had gotten a drawn out, pained whine, and a plaintive string of _'No, no, no, please, no,’_ had fallen from Bucky’s lips.

At the time, Steve had stopped in his tracks, feeling like a ball of ice had dropped from his chest to his gut, spreading a freezing sensation through his veins. 'Buck…?’ he asked.

'Please don’t–’ Bucky had begged, hands coming down to tangle in Steve’s hair. It felt like he was trying to pull him away and push him lower all at once. 'Please don’t do this. Don’t stop.’

Steve had scrambled up Bucky’s body, then, and grabbed Bucky’s face between his hands, making him look at him with glassed out eyes. Bucky had turned his cheek and whimpered as Steve touched him, like he was expecting a, a hit, or something like, like.

Steve hadn’t even been able to process it. 'I’m not going to hurt you, Bucky,’ he had said, but Bucky had only shook his head.

'Please,’ he had begged.

'Listen to me, Buck,’ he said, repeating his name over and over. Isn’t that what the therapist had said? Use his name. Ground him in the moment. Bring him back. 'I’m here, no one is going to hurt you.’

Bucky had blinked then, the hazed out look in his eyes fading. He had locked his eyes accusingly on Steve’s. 'Well I’m done, then,’ he said with finality, and pushed Steve away, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom.

The shower had run for well over twenty minutes, and the whole time Steve wondered where he had gone wrong.

'This was a mistake,’ Bucky had said when he finally came out, hair sopping wet and towel slung around his hips. 'You’re not, I can’t–’

Steve shook his head. 'We should talk about this,’ he said, but Bucky’s lips just tightened.

'No,’ he replied. 'Not you. Not with you.’

 

* * *

 

'Where’s that beer, grandpa?’ Natasha asks when Steve opens the door to the apartment. She’s wearing a navy blue pea-coat with a knitted scarf bundled up around neck to protect against the winter chill. Her hair is curly these days, falling out from under a little blue cap – but despite the cool weather, her legs are clad only in a thin pair of nude stockings, and she’s walking in neat black heels. She looks impeccable, as always. 'I had a rough flight.’

'Fridge,’ Steve answers, as she wanders past, steps clicking on the hardwood floor. Bucky is lounged out on the sofa, watching her come in, but as Steve turns away from the door he is surprised (although, not really, he supposes) to see Bucky’s whole posture shift at Natasha’s presence. He goes from being sprawled out, arms spread over the back of the couch, to dropping his hands down to the cushion he’s sitting on, straightening his posture and ducking his head to look up at her from under his lashes.

'Nat,’ he greets.

'James.’ She raises her voice as she heads into the kitchen and opens the fridge. 'Steve, I hear you’re staying in tonight?’

'If that’s okay,’ Steve answers, only to realize he’s still lingering by the door. Consciously, he moves into the living room and sits on the arm chair on the other side of the room from where Bucky is sitting. Bucky lifts his eyebrow. The cushions next to him are still bent out of shape from where Steve was reclining there only minutes earlier.

Steve has never actually been here for any of… this, before. Not even for these moments before they get started. He’s always headed out for the evening and only come home when Bucky has texted him to let him know that Natasha is gone. All he’s seen is the markings on Bucky’s body after. Red bruises and eyes red from crying. Body loose and open, nuzzling into Steve as they go to bed.

'Are you sure you can handle it?’ Natasha asks him, coming back into the room. She twists off the cap on the bottle and takes a sip, throwing herself down into the chair beside Bucky. Her hand comes up to the nape of his neck, tilting his head forward with a firm pressure, and Bucky breathes out. Steve isn’t sure whether it’s for Bucky’s own benefit or to give Steve a taste of what he apparently doesn’t want to see.

'Why does everyone think I can’t deal with this?’ he asks, a bit too brusquely. 'It’s fine, I know what you do already.’

Natasha looks skeptical. 'Do you?’

Bucky shakes his head, and murmurs something to her under his breath.

She laughs, and removes her hand from his neck.

'Alright, fine,’ Steve huffs, crossing his arms. 'But I… want to.’

Bucky looks up sharply at that. 'No,’ he says, and glances over at Natasha. 'He don’t know what he’s on about. This isn’t _you_ , Steve. Trust me.’

'Maybe not.’ Steve shifts in his seat, leaning forward a bit. His arms are still folded, but now it feels less like a defensive gesture and more like he’s broadcasting how uncomfortable he is. Deliberately, he changes his posture so that his hands are on his thighs. 'But maybe I can be the judge of that.’

Bucky is frowning, but Natasha is just regarding him consideringly. 'You won’t enjoy this, Steve,’ she tells him, and it sounds like she’s going to continue; only Bucky interrupts with a sharp, 'It doesn’t matter, 'cause he _won’t be watching_.’

Natasha takes a long draught from her beer. 'I feel like you two need a moment,’ she says, and stands up. 'So I am going to wait in the bedroom for you, James. I expect you to come in on your hands and knees, and if Steve is with you, that’s fine, but he better not talk, or touch.’

Steve swallows, something curling in his stomach. He likes to think he doesn’t walk on eggshells around Bucky, but the thought of talking to him like that almost gives him conniptions. Bucky’s had enough orders for a lifetime. Two. _More_.

But Bucky seems to disagree. He just says, 'Yes, Natalia,’ in a low voice with a tone Steve has never heard before, and drops his gaze to the floor as she walks away.

Once the bedroom door clicks shut he looks at Steve. 'Are you gonna be a fucking asshole about this?’ he asks him, voice level. 'I mean it, Steve. You can watch, if you really, really want to. But are you gonna cluck at me about it? Am I gonna have to think about you sitting there losing your goddamn mind because she’s not being particularly nice to me?’

'No, I…’

'Think it through, Steve.’

Steve does. He bites down on his tongue and eventually nods. He says to Bucky, 'I’ll keep an open mind.’

 

* * *

 

A few minutes later, Bucky is stripped down to just his boxers, and holding out to Steve, of all things, a leather collar. 'You can make yourself useful and put it on for me,’ he tells him, and Steve just nods and takes the collar in slightly shaking hands.

Leather and Bucky don’t go together in his head. Leather is the Winter Soldier, all strapped into his uniform like it’s a prison, muzzled silent. Bucky is soft things. Bucky is sweatpants that have just come out clean from the dryer and warm hoodies and oversized scarves.

The collar is not a gentle thing. It is thick and wide, with several buckles and layers of straps. A metal ring hangs from the front, and it takes Steve until he’s fiddling with the clasp and getting up close and personal with it to notice that the ring has the word _slave_ engraved in it in sharp letters.

It makes Steve go cold, but Bucky just tilts his head back as the collar goes on, lifting his hair up out of the way for Steve; and when it is securely fastened, he actually seems to relax a little bit and nods. He turns around. 'Alright,’  he says, and steps towards the door. He drops to the ground before he knocks.

What Steve sees when the door opens is just Natasha’s hand coming out to tangle in Bucky’s hair and pull him roughly into the room. Bucky goes down into this hands, crawling after her. 'Close the door when you come in,’ Natasha calls out to Steve. 'Встань на колени, шлюха.’

Steve knows that’s not meant for him. Not just from the shift in language, but from the change in Natasha’s tone. She sounds mildly playful when she talks to Steve, dry in that way that she has like everything is just on the cusp of being a game. But when she talks to Bucky, her voice goes hard, mean.

Steve comes to the door just as she slaps him. Bucky’s neck whips to the side, and his lips shake around a rough gasp, and it takes all of Steve’s willpower to just quietly move to the chair in the corner of the room next to the dresser and sit down.

'What’s this?’ Natasha asks Bucky, pushing him back so that he’s sitting crouched on his heels. She presses the ball of her foot, still in her sleek black heels, to the front of Bucky’s boxers. 'Why would you come to me wearing clothes? ничего не стоящий.’

'Sorry,’ Bucky gasps out, as she grabs his cheeks and presses her foot harder down into his crotch. It’s gotta hurt; she seems to be stamping down, twisting her foot hard enough that she’s gotta be crushing something, and Bucky’s face is twisting up in pain and his chest is flushed and heaving already.

'Take them off,’ she says after (what is to Steve) an agonizingly long moment. She takes her foot off his groin. 'And don’t come to me again in anything other than what I give to you.’ Her fingers dance over the collar at this, and just as Bucky drops his hands down to struggle out of his underpants she slips her forefinger into the little ring of metal at the front of the leather and tugs sharply downwards, laughing cruelly when he falls face forward onto the carpet, hands still stuck trying to get his boxers over his knees. It’s undignified and debasing, and Steve thinks his own cheeks are flaming almost as much as Bucky’s as he watches.

'Stay,’ Natasha orders, and takes a step around Bucky to land a sharp slap on the bare skin of his ass while he’s still face down on the floor. Bucky lets out a gasp, and Steve can see his cock jerk between his legs, filling with blood.  'Do you like it?’ she asks him, but as she says it, her eyes glance up to meet Steve’s. 'Answer.’

'Y- yes,’ Bucky gasps out.

'Course you do,’ Natasha says smoothly, and lifts up her foot to dig her sharp heel into Bucky’s shoulder, pushing him over onto his back. Bucky finally manages to kick his boxer shorts over his feet, and then he’s just lying on his back, panting a little bit, prick curved flush up towards his stomach and watching Natasha carefully.

Steve suspects that he is purposely ignoring the fact that he’s in the room.

Natasha’s foot has come down to press at the top of Bucky’s chest, and she seems to be leaning a lot of her weight onto his body. Bucky’s head lifts up in a bit of an aborted movement, and she smiles. ’ Ask me if you can clean them,’ she says.

'да,’ Bucky replies, voice gasping, and Steve knows that _that_ word is _yes_.

'No, ask for it.’ She presses her heel harder into his sternum. 'Say please.’

'Please, Natalia,’ Bucky breathes. 'Please can I lick them clean?’

And that is how Steve ends up watching Natasha sitting on the edge of his own bed, legs folded, letting Bucky lathe his tongue over every inch of the black, shiny leather of her heels and the rough of the soles until they are spotless.

'Good little slave,’ she purrs to him, when he’s done. 'You’ve earned a reward.’

And then she rubs his prick up against his stomach with the flat of her shoe until Bucky is a breath away from coming, before digging the heel into his balls so sharply that he cries, cock leaking.

 

* * *

 

It takes a long while for Steve to really, truly believe that Bucky could be enjoying this. He trusts Natasha. He possibly trusts Natasha these days more than he trusts himself, and he knows that she has the uncanny ability to become the person she needs to be at any given time.

But when she spits in Bucky’s face, Steve cringes. And when she calls Bucky a string of things in Russian that Steve knows without a doubt have to be slurs, and pinches his nipples hard, before slapping him again when his cock jerks, Steve has to swallow down any objection from his place as quiet observer.

But then. But then, several times throughout the whole scene, Natasha drops to Bucky’s level – not _quite_ breaking character, and says to him either, 'Gimme a colour, James,’ or, 'You good to keep going?’

And every time, Bucky’s answer is, 'Yes, yes, green, christ. Yes.’

By the time that they’re done (if _done_ is the right word when no one has come and Natasha hasn’t even gotten her clothes off. It’s not like any other sex Steve has ever seen, or had, but it’s definitely working for Bucky, and that’s what counts) Bucky’s glistening with sweat and his cock is a bruised purple color from being so close to release for so long. There are marks across his body where Natasha has slapped him or pinched him or dug into him with her heel, and every part of him except for the metal arm is shaking.

But Steve knows what Bucky looks like when he’s satisfied or pleased, and as strange a context as it is for _him_ , this is definitely that.

Finally, Natasha takes a look over Bucky and just says, 'We’re done here,’ and steps away.

Bucky lets out a long whine. 'Please, please, Natalia, I need to come,’ he begs, but Natasha just smirks.

'If you want it,’ she tells him, looking over to Steve, 'you can get it somewhere else.’

It’s clear after that the game is over, because something slips in Natasha’s posture, and although she stays in the room, she just climbs onto the bed and lies down, watching impassively.

Bucky turns to look at Steve. 'You promised not to be an asshole,’ he says, shuffling forward on his knees. The carpet burns them, but the skin will be scraped no more red than other parts of his body. For some reason, asking this of Steve seems to cut into Bucky harder than anything else tonight. 'You promised.’

Steve nods. 'I know,’ he replies. 'I–’

'I don’t want you lookin’ at me like I want something bad for me,’ Bucky says, interrupting him in a low tone. 'I want this. _I want this_.’

'I know,’ Steve says again, and tries for a smile. 'That’s okay. I want, I just want to look after you.’

Bucky nods, coming up to rest his head on Steve’s lap, and lets out a sigh that sounds like it’s been held for too long.

 

* * *

 

Natasha doesn’t move from the bed when Steve brings Bucky over there a moment later, laying him out so that he can pepper soft kisses over the red marks on his body. She just quirks a grin at him when he looks at her. 'I let you stay for my bit,’ she points out, and Steve can’t help but laugh.

'I’m not waiting until my fucking balls burst,’ Bucky supplies, canting his hips up under Steve’s hands insistently.

From there, it’s slow (not _too_ slow) and gentle, and Steve takes Bucky smoothly into his mouth, kissing and licking up and down his shaft, closing his lips around the flushed head of his prick and taking him deep, deep, and moaning around him as the taste of him fills up his mouth.

When Bucky comes, he is writhing and gasping and sighing, and afterward he hauls Steve up level to kiss him.

'Did you get what you need?’ Steve asks him quietly, mostly into his mouth.

Bucky nods, and reaches out to take Natasha’s hand in his own, squeezing tight, just for a moment.

'Everything,’ he says.


End file.
